Good-bye Vietnam
by MissEclipse
Summary: Late Vietnam era. A quick analysis of what happened to the A-Team after they robbed the Hanoi Bank through to their escape into the LA underground. Last two chapters now posted. Reviews always welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**[****_The A-Team is still the red-hot property of Stephen J Cannell (RIP)_****]**

[_This chapter is based loosely on Hannibal's account of the robbery as shown in the TV series "Trial by Fire"._]

**Chapter 1: Bank heist**

[_Timeline: Hanoi, North Vietnam – 27 January 1971 (am)_]

Three members of the A-Team - Colonel "Hannibal" Smith, Lieutenant "Faceman" Peck and Sargent "BA" Baracus - had been commissioned by their CO, General Morrison, to undertake a covert operation to rob the Hanoi Bank. This action had been sanctioned by the government in an effort to help bring the Vietnam War to an end, by cutting off monies supplied to the Vietcong.

Their personal pilot, Captain HM Murdock, had successfully inserted them approximately 20 klicks outside the city of Hanoi. A jeep was conveniently waiting for them, not far from the co-ordinates where Murdock had dropped them off, to get them into the centre of Hanoi.

It was late morning and the Vietnamese were celebrating the Tet New Year. All the shops, local businesses and schools were closed, giving them the perfect camouflage to cover up the heist.

Face, who was dressed in the traditional black pyjamas and conical hat, was patiently waiting by the get-away jeep. Hannibal and BA, dressed in army fatigues, were to carry out the task of robbing the bank. BA had taken out the alarm earlier and Hannibal had dealt with the guards. Together they had blown the safe, the explosion drowned out by the fireworks and noise of the carnival outside.

Everything was going to plan until two NVA soldiers wandered casually over and stood inches away from the jeep, leaving Face no choice but to commandeer another vehicle. It was also at that moment when BA appeared at the bank window to check Face's position, instantly arousing the suspicion of the two soldiers. They hurried over to the bank, rifles at the ready.

"Colonel!" exclaimed BA. "We've been busted! We've gotta get out of here – now!"

Hannibal had finished stuffing the contents of the safe, which consisted of 10,000,000 piasters, into his green army sack. He turned round to find BA by his side, looking at him anxiously. Then suddenly and without warning, Face came crashing through the front of the building in a newly acquired escape vehicle.

"Need a lift?" he enquired coolly, as Hannibal and BA dived into the jeep.

"Nice timing, kid!" drawled Hannibal.

The two soldiers were left floundering in the wake of Face's spectacular entrance as they become entangled in the falling debris. The Lieutenant slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator pedal and reversed expertly back out into the street. No-one seemed to have heard or seen the commotion as the carnival was now in full swing.

It wasn't long before they were weaving their way back through the crowded town of Hanoi, heading towards the DMZ. Their orders were to lay low until all the fuss had died down before bringing the money back to Nha Trang HQ. Murdock was to meet them at an already arranged time and place to make the extraction in exactly four days' time.

"That's was close!" remarked Face as he finally relaxed his steely grip on the steering wheel.

"Ain't it always!" smirked back Hannibal, a newly lit cigar already clamped between his teeth.

BA shook his head disapprovingly, as he watched his adrenaline, pumped-up leader, grinning manically back at Face.

"He's on the jazz ag'in," he said, with a weary expression on his face. "Hannibal's on the jazz!"

[_Note: DMZ stood for Demilitarized Zone (also known as the 38th parallel), which was considered to be neutral territory during the Vietnam war._]


	2. Chapter 2: Under attack

**Chapter 2 – Under attack**

[_Timeline: Nha Trang base – 27 January 1971 (pm)_]

Murdock had returned to base, after the 1½ hour flight back from Hanoi. It was early evening before he made his way towards HQ to make his report. As he stood in front of the General he felt uneasy. Morrison seemed cagey and evasive, fidgeting incessantly whilst the pilot updated him on the insertion.

He seemed in a hurry to get Murdock out of the office. Murdock frowned deeply as he was dismissed and walked down the corridor towards the front entrance of the building. Something wasn't right. He was pretty good at reading other people's body language and the General's behaviour had been nothing short of furtive.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of NVA rockets whizzing through the air, propelled him abruptly from his thoughts. With a shudder of trepidation he realised the base was under attack.

As he rushed outside, the smell of phosphorous from the Willie Pete artillery grenades assaulted his senses. Those cunning dogs were actually using US weapons against them! Yellow flames of fire erupted across the compound as the acid burned whatever or whoever got in its way. The white smoke stung Murdock's eyes and cut visibility down to a bare minimum.

Other planted explosions left by Sappers who had infiltrated the base, were adding to the chaos. Murdock could see bodies being tossed frivolously into the air as they came into contact with the deadly booby traps.

Base security around the camp was always pretty tight and thankfully the Security Police already had the situation under control. The Vietcong were hastily abandoning the scene of destruction, not wishing to be taken out by the two biggest bad-asses in town – old Spooky and Shadow!

Murdock barely had time to gather his wits together as the last of the fleeing enemy mortars bombarded the HQ building behind him. As the wave of the impact emanated in his direction, he felt his whole body being lifted up and then thrown backwards on to the ground, knocking him out and rendering him unconscious.

When he finally awoke, he found himself gazing into the worried face of one of the hospital nurses. She was holding his hand and it took him a couple of minutes to realise that she was talking anxiously to him.

"Captain Murdock? Can you hear me?"

Murdock shook his head as he tried to get rid of the muffled feeling in his ears. He immediately regretted the movement as a searing pain shot through his head, momentarily blinding him. He closed his eyes as if to stop the pain from escalating before slowly opening them to focus back on the nurse.

"I can … hear … you," he answered slowly, his voice dry and hoarse.

"You gave us quite a scare," she continued, swiftly pouring him some water into a paper cup.

As Murdock tried to sit up, he realised he was attached to a saline drip and his head wound was covered in a large bandage. He screwed his face up into a scowl, as he tried to remember how he had ended up in hospital. The nurse helped him sit up against the pillows and gave him the cup of water.

After he had taken a few sips, memories of the shelling came flooding back to him. His confused brown eyes widened in horror as the sound and image of the mortars hitting the HQ building replayed around in his head. A look of panic flickered over his gaunt features.

"The explosion!" he suddenly stammered. "The bombs … the VC …!"

"It's okay, Captain Murdock", the nurse said in a soothing voice. "The attack is over and you're going to be fine. You just received a nasty bang to your head when you got knocked out in the explosion."

"What about General Morrison?" asked Murdock. "Did he make it out of the building?"

"I'm sorry Captain," she answered gently. "The HQ took a direct hit. As far as I know General Morrison never survived the explosion."

Murdock hung his head, sorrowfully. He wasn't as close to the General as the other members of the A-Team were, but losing a fallen brother in arms was always shocking to hear.

"Are you hungry?" she continued, diplomatically changing the subject. "You know, you haven't eaten for nearly six days!"

"What!" exclaimed Murdock. "You mean I've been unconscious all this time!"

The nurse nodded back in acknowledgement. Murdock gasped in astonishment. Six days? That meant his buddies must have returned from the Hanoi job. He presumed that someone who was in on the mission must have made arrangements for another pilot to pick them up. In fact, he was surprised and a little bit put out not to find one of the team at his bedside.

"Hey Cup Cake, can you do me favour?" he asked, giving her one of his best roguish grins. "Can you get hold of Lieutenant Templeton Peck for me? He's a handsome son of a gun, with blonde hair and a knock-out smile ….."

"Yes, I know who Temp is," interrupted the nurse, blushing slightly at the mention of his name. "But I'm afraid he's not here. He's … he's …"

"He's what?" pressed Murdock, a sudden pang of dread flowing through his body.

The nurse started to get flustered as she tried to evade answering the question. But Murdock wasn't about to let the subject drop. He was getting more and more upset and it was all she could do to stop him pulling off his drip and marching out of the hospital.

"Yo, Fly Boy, what do ya think you're doing!" suddenly bellowed a voice from the other side of the room.

Murdock looked up, immediately recognising the sound of his trusted Crew Chief, George Griffin. The nurse swung round as he came towards them, a relieved look on her face. She also recognised the older man who had spent a lot of time sitting with Murdock whilst he was unconscious.

"He's asking about Lieutenant Peck," she said warily.

"I see," he replied, glancing with some concern in Murdock's direction. "Thanks nurse, I'll deal with this."

She gave him a grateful look and then scurried off to alert a doctor that the Captain had regained consciousness, giving them some time to talk.

"What's going on Griff?" demanded Murdock. "Has something happened to Faceman?"

Griff sat down on the bed beside Murdock, who was bracing himself for the bad news.

"The thing is, HM," began Griff. "There's been a slight misunderstanding. Face, Hannibal and BA have all been arrested for robbery, treason and desertion."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" exploded Murdock, almost laughing at the understatement of the words "slight misunderstanding".

"'Fraid not," continued Griff. "The Security Police picked them up as soon as they came back to base. They had quite a job explaining what they were doing with 10,000,000 piasters in their possession!"

"But, I don't understand," frowned Murdock. "They had written orders – from General Morrison himself."

Griff sighed, shaking his head solemnly.

"Didn't seem to cut much ice with the Police," he said. "What with the General being killed and HQ going up in flames, well, there isn't any evidence to back up their allegations".

Murdock looked mortified.

"Where are they now?" he asked, his voice reduced to a hushed whisper.

"They've been dishonourably discharged and sent back to Fort Bragg to await trail," said Griff. "They were flown back to the States yesterday."

He took a moment to let Murdock digest this information, before adding, "I'm sorry, HM, I know you'd all become good buddies."

Murdock shook his head in disbelief. The A-Team weren't only his buddies, they were his lifeline to staying sane. They were the reason why he hadn't descended into a quivering, suicidal wreck of despair. They'd kept him grounded during all the times when nothing had made sense anymore.

"I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye," he said dejectedly, to nobody in particular.

The nurse had now returned with the doctor. Griff squeezed the pilot's arm and told him he'd come back later. The doctor checked his head wound and asked him some random questions about his injury. But Murdock was oblivious to what was going on. As they finally took their leave, he turned his head towards the wall to hide the silent tears that fell down his cheeks.

His free hand trailed down in an absent-minded manner over the side of the bed. He distinctively started to pat the empty air below.

"Looks like it's just me and you now Billy," he said quietly, as his imaginary dog nuzzled his head comfortably against his Master's hand.

[_Note: _

_Sappers: VC demolition commandos who infiltrated friendly compounds and planted explosives.  
Spooky: C-47 gunships with side-firing gattling guns.  
Shadow: C-119 gunship with 7.62mm mini guns mounted in side widows._]


	3. Chapter 3: Arresting situation

**Chapter 3: Arresting situation**

[_Nha Trang base – 31 January 1971_]

Having just spent the last four days hiding out incognito somewhere in the DMZ, the A-Team were blissfully unaware of the events that had unfolded during their absence. Or perhaps it was more to the truth that nobody had bothered to keep them informed of the developments.

So they were surprised and a little taken back when they were picked up from the Landing Zone by the young, strange pilot. He had told them nothing, other than the fact that Murdock had been injured during an enemy attack on HQ.

When they arrived back at base, the team had immediately been arrested by the Special Police and thrown into the Brigg. After being left to languish in their cell for most of the morning, they were eventually hauled in for questioning.

Their interrogator, one Major Horace Darlington, was determined not to feel intimidated by Hannibal's razor-sharp glare. There weren't many people in 'Nam who hadn't heard of the maverick John Smith and his crack-shot A-Team. His reputation had far preceded him and there was no doubt the young Colonel had a domineering presence about him. Almost a cocky arrogance that made the Major bristle inwardly.

The situation wasn't helped any by having a surly and extremely volatile Sargent snarling at him with a face like thunder, together with a smooth-talking pretty boy Lieutenant, who was quoting the Geneva Convention at him, book chapter and verse. He had refused to co-operate until the team had been given something to eat and drink and Hannibal had finished his customary cigar. Only then was the Major able to get things moving.

They had now been in the interrogation room for over an hour and Hannibal was getting seriously hacked off by the Major's line of questioning. It was obvious he didn't believe that they had been following orders when they robbed the bank.

"Look pal!" he retorted impatiently. "If we had robbed the bank for our own personal gain, do you really thing we would be stupid enough to come back here with the money?"

Darlington considered Hannibal's remark for a few seconds before replying. Hannibal's record during his tour in Vietnam was littered with controversy. Yes, he got the results the army wanted, but he was also known for his insubordination and failure to follow orders. He was a rule-breaker - just the sort of cock-sure officer Darlington despised and didn't really understand.

"Maybe not, Colonel," he replied. "But you are a risk-taker and your unconventional methods have certainly worked out to your advantage in the past. Do you really expect me to believe that General Morrison would have sanctioned this far-fetched theory of yours, that the government believed robbing the Hanoi Bank would help stop the war?"

BA rose angrily from his chair, his patience also running out with the jumped-up, pompous stuffed-shirt in front of him. The armed guard who was standing in the corner of the room immediately pointed his rifle at him in a warning manner.

"You hard of hearing sucker!" he growled in a threatening manner. "We've already told you we were following orders – and BA Baracus don't lie!"

"So you keep saying, Sargent," said Darlington. "But it would seem that these so-called orders have unfortunately gone up in smoke with the General."

"What about his aide, Captain Curtis," suddenly remembered Hannibal. "He was in the room when General Morrison gave us the orders. He can back us up."

"Captain Curtis was seen entering HQ minutes before the enemy attack began," replied Darlington. "His body was also recovered from the wreckage."

There was a stunned silence at this revelation. Curtis was also a known comrade of the team, so this was very distressing news. Not only because of his death, but also because they had just lost another alibi.

"Wait a minute!" interjected Face. "This is the army, where everything is recorded in triplicate. Have you checked with ICOR to see if any record of the General's orders have been filed there?"

Darlington shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In his rush to get to Nha Trang, he hadn't actually checked over the daily reports.

"Well now I've established some facts of what has happened here, I will of course be opening up that line of enquiry," he backtracked, looking slightly embarrassed at the oversight.

He stood up abruptly from his chair addressing the guard.

"Take these men back to their cell," he ordered. "We'll carry on with this once I have made a few more enquiries."

"Wait a minute!" said Hannibal curtly. "We'd like permission to visit Captain Murdock in hospital. We heard he was injured in the shelling."

_"_I'm sorry, Colonel," replied the Major, tersely. "That won't be possible. As Captain Murdock was your pilot, we will also need to speak to him about his part in all of this."

"That fool don't know nuffin'," barked back BA. "He's just a nut who flew the chopper, is all."

"We still need to speak to him first, once he regains consciousness," said Darlington, firmly. "In the meantime, I'm sure you'll understand we can't allow you to have any contact with him."

The team were escorted back to their cell under much duress, arguing vigorously that if Murdock was unconscious, how could they possibly inform him of what was going on. But their protests fell on deaf ears. BA banged violently on the bars of the prison cell in frustration, whilst Face looked very upset at the thought of abandoning his buddy in his hour of need.

Hannibal was pacing up and down the length of the small cell, clearly trying to keep his own emotions in check. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft, worried voice of Face, who was looking at him with an air of despondency.

"What do you think is going to happen, Colonel? he asked.

Hannibal stopped pacing as he turned to face his young Lieutenant.

"I think if Darlington doesn't find any evidence to back up Morrison's orders, then we're stuffed," he replied honestly.

"Oh," said Face, appreciating Hannibal's candid response. "Just checking!"

"What about Crazyman?" asked BA, his voice full of concern for his blood brother. "Do you think he'll go down with us?"

Hannibal looked pensive for a moment before replying.

"I don't think so, BA," he finally answered. "He wasn't with us when we robbed the bank and no money has been found in his possession. And we're certainly not going to implement him in any of this."

BA looked relieved at Hannibal's answer. If Murdock was sent down with them, there would be no way he would make it in prison.

Their four months stint as PoWs in the "Hanoi Hotel" back in 1970 had taken its toll on all of the team. But it had been especially hard for Murdock. Having been separated from them right at the start, he had spent all of his time in isolation, with only the rats and mosquitoes for company.

When they had finally all been released under an amnesty pack, they had been shocked to see how much the Captain had deteriorated – both in mind and body. They were all in bad shape one way or another, but Murdock's already lean physique had resembled nothing more than a bag of bones.

His ruptured skin carried the many scars of the relentless beatings and torture he had endured over four months of captivity and his zany, up-beat spirit had been broken.

Even now, months after their ordeal, his eyes were still haunted with a hint of wild hysteria and madness. They had all shared his blood-curdling nightmares. They knew that being locked up in a cell would only escalate his paranoia, as it would bring back dark memories of his previous incarceration.

There was no escaping the fact that he had regressed into a world which had become a figment of his over-active imagination. A world that only he could see through his rosy-coloured glasses, where an imaginary dog called Billy protected him from all the horrors of a brutal and violent war.

A few hours later the team were brought the news that they had been dreading. There was no evidence to be found in relation to any government orders being issued for them to rob the Hanoi Bank. They were going down and nobody seemed interested in bailing them out.

Hannibal didn't understand what went wrong. Surely Morrison hadn't been the only senior officer involved in the decision to rob the bank? Had the A-Team just been used as a smokescreen to cover up some other coup?

Suspicious as he was, he couldn't believe that General Morrison had double-crossed them. He was a man of great merit and standing and there had always been an element of trust and respect between them. There had to be some other explanation.

The next day they were formally arrested and taken away as convicted criminals. As the Load Master clanked shut the doors on the C-130 aircraft, the three men realised they would never see Vietnam again.

They had all prayed long and hard for this day to come. But this wasn't the way it was supposed to have ended. The unspoken consensus between them had always been that they would either all go down together or leave the Country together as a team.

It was with a heavy heart that they realised an important part of them would remain in Vietnam. All three men were silent as they thought about their faithful pilot and friend. The pain of leaving him behind hurt a million times more than the betrayal that had just been bestowed upon them.

"Good luck, buddy," whispered Face, visibly choked up with emotion and anguish.

Despite his handcuffed wrists, Hannibal somehow managed to hold on to Face's arm in a comforting manner. His own topaz-blue eyes were misting over with concern and bitter anger, but he managed to convey a message of hope to his grief-stricken Lieutenant.

"Murdock won't quit, Face," he said with as much conviction as he could muster. "And he won't expect us to quit either. Right BA?"

BA was also struggling to hold his feelings together, but he managed to nod in agreement, tenderly putting his hand on Face's shoulder to show his support. He hoped that the fool was just crazy enough to find a way through all the insanity and lunacy of this God-forsaken war.


	4. Chapter 4: Double-cross

**Chapter 4: Double-cross**

[_Cambodia NVA camp –_ _1 February 1971_]

Captain Curtis smiled smugly as he put down the phone. His spies had just informed him that the A-Team had been arrested and would be spending the rest of their days of the war as prisoners in Fort Bragg.

The plan had gone better than he could have anticipated. The unexpected NVA attack had only helped him cover up his treacherous killing of Colonel Morrison. They were both double-agents who had been giving information to the NVA for money.

The mission to rob the Bank of Hanoi had initially been a ploy to embarrass the United States Government. But more importantly, it had been a chance for certain NVA and USA military turncoats to get their hands on a hefty amount of the fifty million piasters that had originally been deposited in the safe. The A-Team heist had been fixed so they thought they were only robbing 10,000,000 piasters. The rest of the money had already been taken out before hand, conveniently setting them up to make the authorities believe they had stolen it all.

The only thing was, Morrison was getting twitchy. He didn't like the idea of double-crossing his close friend John Smith and his team. This made some of their NVA associates nervous. Suggestions were made that Curtis should "get rid" of the weak link in the chain. Curtis was only too happy to oblige. Greed and corruption was already flowing through his veins and he would be handsomely rewarded for cutting Morrison loose.

On the evening of 27 January, he went up to HQ to carry out the deed. He had seen Murdock making his way over the compound, presumably to report back after making the insertion. Keeping out of sight, he had waited for him to leave Morrison's office before he quietly entered the room.

The General was standing with his back to him, slowly pouring himself a glass of whiskey with a very shaky hand. Without hesitation, Captain Curtis stepped forward, his revolver cocked and shot him twice at short range. As Morrison crumbled into a heap on the floor, Curtis heard the rumble of enemy artillery thundering around him.

As the shelling came closer and closer, he scrambled frantically to get out of HQ. He ran down the corridor towards the rear end of the building - in the opposite direction to that of the pilot - and ran out into the fading light of the evening.

He ran to take cover from the artillery barrage, throwing himself in a panic over some sandbags. It was at that precise moment that HQ took a direct hit from the mortars. He watched, transfixed to the spot, as the building exploded sky-high.

An ugly smirk spread across his face. What a bit of luck, he thought to himself! He didn't even have to dispose of the body, but that didn't matter. It wouldn't be too hard to find a couple of corrupt officials who would turn a blind eye to the fact that the General had suspiciously been shot. Damn it, he was pretty sure he could even get them to convince the army that the _two_ dead bodies recovered from the wreckage belonged to General Morrison _and_ his aide, Captain Curtis.

Because Curtis had the power now. He had money and the contacts to become a major player in South Asia. There were people who would hide him and keep him safe. No-one would ever know of his dirty little secrets or indiscretions. He would die a hero.

[_To be continued. I hope the story so far seems credible. The next couple of chapters will reflect on Murdock's remaining time in Vietnam, the A-Team's escape from Fort Bragg and finally the reunion with Murdock at the VA hospital. In the meantime, if anyone has any thoughts, criticisms, polite suggestions, etc, please don't feel shy to ping me a reply!_]


	5. Chapter 5: Invasion

**Chapter 5: Invasion**

[_Note: In an attempt to keep events during the Vietnam War as accurate as possible, the next three chapters contain extracts from real-life experiences._]

[_February 1971_]

Murdock spent a week in hospital recovering from his injuries. During that time he had been briefly questioned by Major Darlington about his involvement in the Hanoi bank robbery. He seemed satisfied that Murdock had been involved purely in his capacity as personal pilot to the team and didn't pursue the matter with him any further.

Murdock has been very distressed about the arrest of his friends. His already irrational behaviour was now becoming even more unhinged and there were quite a few concerned raised eyebrows amongst the doctors as to the state of his mind.

If it hadn't been for Griff, Murdock was sure he would have lost the plot completely. So when the surgeon had looked into his eyes and ears and asked him if he felt okay to fly, Murdock had responded "sure", without giving it a second thought.

Passing another psychiatric test would be more of a problem. However, the pilot had become an expert on appearing lucid when it really mattered. He needed to fly – and that wasn't going to happen if he got certified to the loony bin. So the pilot was declared fit to return to active duty and within 12 days was already on his next assignment.

With US troops slowly beginning to withdraw from Vietnam, a new US government initiative had been put in place to hand control of the war back to the ARVN forces. The United States would provide air, artillery and logistical support but would not accompany the SVA on their missions.

On this particular day, inexperienced South Vietnamese troops were sent across the Border to Laos in an attempt to disrupt the Ho Chi Minh Trail. The Trail was an ever-changing network of paths and roads that ran from North Vietnam to South Vietnam through Laos and Cambodia. The VC used the system as a way to get troops from the north into the south and also as a supply route for weapons, food and equipment.

The aim was to take the province of Tchepone, where American intelligence had detected a huge build-up of NVA activity. There was now a chance of scuppering a prospective Easter offensive, whilst cutting of the Ho Chi Minh Trail at the same time. This would be the last chance for the South Vietnamese to make an impact while American forces were available to provide support.

The ARVN had already re-established the airstrip at Khe Sanh and had secured the surrounding area. Route 9, the access road that run from South Vietnam to the Laotian border, had been repaired and cleared to allow the SVN 1st Armoured Brigade to advance forward. However, this initiative proved to be a big mistake, as unfortunately the NVA knew they were coming and set up one hell of a welcoming committee for them.

Murdock's unit was hastily scrambled to go bail them out. He had already decided that this mission was one big screw up. As he flew in formation towards the Landing Zone, he glanced downwards out of the window. He could see several hundred NVA troops moving together like a carpet across the jungle terrain towards the border.

His Peter Pilot, a young FNG called Freddie Benson, turned an interesting shade of green as he too caught a glimpse of the approaching troops. This was his first assignment and the sight had rendered him speechless.

The air mission commander had sent half the formation off to the east to hold its position. Murdock's slick was already on approach to the Landing Zone, which was under intense fire. Murdock watched in horror as the first few ships were immediately shot down by enemy artillery. He had to shield his eyes from the glare of the orange flames that flickered up towards him, as an aftermath of the aircrafts hitting the ground.

As he continued his descent, he became aware that Benson was waving his arms at him, pointing frantically out through his side window. Murdock looked out and saw a line of machine gun bullets hitting the dirt right in front of them. The Door Gunner and Griff immediately let loose with their M-60 machine guns as Murdock aborted the landing, pushing the cyclic forward to start a hurried ascent.

It was then that he heard the Door Gunner's voice ringing out over the intercom.

"Griff's been hit – repeat - Griff's down!"

Murdock's heart stopped beating for what seemed like the longest second of his life. He continued to manoeuvre the Huey until it was a safe distance away from the enemy artillery and then handed the controls to the shell-shocked Benson.

He flung down his headset, unstrapped his harness and squeezed his way into the loading bay. It looked like Griff had taken a round of bullets in his chest. The red stain of blood was everywhere. The Gunner had raided the first aid kit and was frantically trying to pack off the bleeding. His face was even more paler than Griff's, if that was at all possible.

Murdock knelt down by Griff's side. He started to help pack off the blood, but Griff grabbed his hand, shaking his head, resignedly.

"Don't matter now, Fresh Meat," he wheezed, his pained, but steady gaze holding Murdock's own devastated gaze.

Murdock managed a half-hearted grimace at Griff's choice of words. He had called him Fresh Meat when Murdock had met him as a young Peter Pilot on his first mission. But he had soon gained the Crew Chief's respect and during their time at Da Nang they had formed a formidable partnership. When Murdock had transferred to Nha Trang, he had immediately requested that his Crew Chief be transferred with him.

"Don't talk like that," replied Murdock, fiercely. "We've got that Bob Hope film to watch when we get back – remember?"

Griff's fingers gripped harder round Murdock's hand.

"My jacket," he gasped, breathlessly. "The one with the tiger on the back that I've seen you admiring – it's yours."

Murdock shook his head vehemently, but he could see the light slowly fading in Griff's eyes.

"Make sure you get the ol' girl back safe 'n' sound," Griff continued, his free hand lovingly patting the side of the Huey. "It's been an honour flying with you, Captain."

"You too, Griff," replied Murdock, his voice cracking with emotion.

The grip on Murdock's hand was suddenly released as Griff's arm fell with a thud to the floor. Murdock looked into his dead, lifeless eyes one more time before gently closing his eyelids shut. The Gunner shifted awkwardly beside the pilot, bringing him out of his brief stupor.

"I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "There was just too many bullets .. couldn't stop the blood …"

Murdock gave the Gunner a sympathetic shake of his head. He noticed for the first time that he was covered in blood.

"Have you been hit?" he asked in a concerned voice.

The Gunner seemed surprised at Murdock's question and then he too realised that he had blood all over him.

"No," he replied sadly. "It ain't my blood."

Murdock stood up and made his way back to his seat. He took back the controls from Benson and stared motionlessly out of the windscreen. As he replaced his headset, he heard the C&amp;C ship ordering the remaining formations back to Khe Sanh for refuelling. This would allow time to call in air strikes around the perimeter of the LZ. It was also silently understood that with so many ships already downed, there would be no room left to safely set down any more Hueys.

Benson waiting nervously for Murdock to issue some instructions.

"Captain?" he queried, obviously expecting Murdock to acknowledge the orders. But Murdock still remained unresponsive, as a numbness crept through his body, dulling his senses and reasoning.

Realising that Murdock was in no state of mind to respond, Benson took the initiative and acknowledged the orders, giving a brief report as to their current status.

Murdock didn't know how he made it back to Khe Sanh air field. The short flight back would always remain a hazy memory. The only thing that he had a clear recollection of was helping the ground crew put Griff into the body bag. Murdock always took the time to do this when he lost a member off his crew, but this was one time when he wished he didn't have to do it.

After all the obligatory post-flight shutdown procedures were done and reports handed in, Murdock went to Griff's hooch, which he shared with a couple of the other ground maintenance men. Slowly and carefully he began to pack up Griff's clothes and personal belongings into his duffel bag.

There wasn't much to show for his time in 'Nam. A photo of his wife and two daughters, a few magazines, toiletries, playing cards, a bottle of unopened whiskey.

And of course his flight jacket, which was lying casually on the bed. Murdock gently ran his hand over the semi-worn brown leather, tracing his finger around the words "Da Nang". The face of the angry tiger on the back seemed to portray a message of defiance and power, almost willing the pilot to stay strong and not give up.

He pulled the jacket on over his flight suit. Griff was about the same height as Murdock, although Murdock was a lot lankier. It was slightly over-sized, but he didn't mind. It gave him some comfort to know that he would always have a piece of Griff with him.

Because there was no-one left now. With both the A-Team and Griff gone, the only thing Murdock had left was the guilt of his own survival.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The initiative to invade Laos had been a high-risk operation and there had been heavy casualties to both the ARVN and US forces.

However, still aided by heavy US air strikes and plenty of artillery and helicopter gunship support, the ARVN inched forward and after a bloody, month-long delay, air-assaulted into the heavily bombed town of Tchepone.

With their goal finally achieved, the South Vietnamese President ordered a withdrawal of ARVN troops beginning on 9 March that was to continue through the rest of the month, destroying NVA military outposts and any supplies discovered in their path.

As Murdock knew only too well, only a well-disciplined and coordinated army can execute an orderly withdrawal in the face of a determined enemy. Unfortunately the South Vietnamese army in Laos was neither. As soon as it became evident that they had begun a withdrawal, the enemy increased its efforts to destroy them before they could reach South Vietnam.

Murdock's last memory of the Laos invasion was of an NVA ambush which took place along Route 9. Wrecked vehicles were littered along the road. Artillery weapons were abandoned and a good many men had to make their way on foot to landing zones for extraction. Many of the ARVN soldiers Murdock airlifted out had been clinging for dear life from the skids of his Huey.

In short, the NVA had driven the invading forces out of Laos with their tails between their legs.

[_Note:_

_FNG: F*cking New Guy  
Cyclic: gear stick  
C&amp;C: Control and command_]


	6. Chapter 6: Secret place

**Chapter 6:** **The most secret place on earth**

[_Spring 1972_]

Crash, burn, die. It was every pilot's worst nightmare and three important words that Murdock's instructors at Flight School had drummed into him should never be in one's vocabulary. Of course he knew the threat would always be there, but that's what was so exhilarating.

The fire of youth burned in his belly and the danger hadn't frightened him at all. Besides, by the age of 20 he had become an excellent Thunder Birds pilot. Skilfully trained and with a talent that had exceeded all his own expectations, he never considered dying to be an option.

But now, five years later, he wasn't so sure. He thought about those words every time he went up in his Huey. Everything seemed different now he had served time in Vietnam. Every day he woke up he was learning a new way to survive. Maturity was now measured by how many days were left on his calendar. There was no room for errors.

He had spent the rest of his second tour training VNAF pilots, whilst still supporting military units in an airborne capacity. His time spent flying was even more demanding and harrowing. As the war intensified, the risk of being shot down added to the tension and the only thing he could do was to hang on to the controls and pray for a miracle.

And still he continued to zip up the dead into body bags. It concerned him how callous and unfeeling he had become with this ritual. But he knew he had to stay unattached if he didn't want the nightmares to eat him up.

The strain had become too much for a lot of the men around him. Some committed suicide, others had nervous breakdowns. Some had even begged him to kill them, when left stranded in a hot Landing Zone, rather than being left to the mercy of the VC. Most soldiers drank heavily or took drugs to counteract the stress and boredom between missions.

Murdock had now become withdrawn and secluded. There was no safe haven from the war. In fact, the longer he survived, the more isolated and deluded he became. He could feel himself unravelling as the sound of the war assaulted his ears.

His two year tour finally ended in March 1972, when the 101st Airborne Division left Vietnam. But by this time the war had become addictive. Perhaps it was his insanity that was keeping him alive. It helped to be paranoid, homicidally violent and merciless. To be sane was to become a victim.

Not knowing quite what to do next, the answer came in the unexpected guise of the CIA. He had worked for them back in 1967 and swore to himself that he would never work for them again. He hadn't like how they operated and what he had become during his brief time on their payroll.

But what else was he going to do? He didn't have anything or anyone to go back to the States for. He knew he was already on his way to becoming a basket case. The army would have sent him stateside with a section 8 months back if it hadn't been for Hannibal's intervention.

But Hannibal wasn't here anymore. Murdock missed his guidance and support. He missed the senseless jibber jabber between himself and the Big Mean Ugly Mudsucker. And most of all, he missed the brotherly bond and companionship between himself and his best buddy, Face.

So in Spring 1972, Murdock reluctantly accepted the assignment. The CIA owned a secret airline called Air America and were based in the Long Tieng Valley, Laos. Long Tieng was a Laotian military base located in the Xiangkhouang Province.

In fact, Long Tieng was often described as the most secret place on earth. Limestone mountains on three sides of the valley kept it well protected. The valley was elevated at 3,100 feet, high enough to have chilly nights and cold fogs. On the northwest side of the runway were karst outcrops, several hundred feet high. In the shadow of the crops was the "Sky" CIA headquarters.

The Agency's covert missions operated in Burma, Cambodia, Thailand and Laos. Air American crews transported tens of thousands of troops and refugees, flew emergency medevac teams, flew night-time airdrop missions over the Ho Chi Minh Trail, monitored sensors along infiltration routes, conducted a highly successful photo reconnaissance program and engaged in numerous clandestine missions using night-vision glasses and state-of-the-art electronic equipment.

The missions were fraught with danger, but Murdock had convinced himself that he had become immortal. Or perhaps his judgment was becoming impaired as the feeling of numbness was becoming greater than that of fear. It certainly had nothing to do with courage.


	7. Chapter 7:The last flight

**Chapter 7 – The last flight**

[_May 1972_]

Murdock was sitting up on his bed one morning in his Quarters, re-reading the letter from Ray Brenner. Ray had been 2nd Lieutenant in the original 5-man A-Team and his tour had ended shortly after they had been released from the "Hanoi Hilton" in 1970.

He had kept in touch with Ray – as had all the guys. He had been a great asset to the team and had been sorely missed when he went home. Murdock had told him all about the arrest.

Ray had known Hannibal for a long time – even longer than Murdock. He had hoped that maybe Ray could find a way to help the team. Perhaps he knew someone of influence who could fight their corner for them.

But time was running out for his buddies. A trial date had been set for the beginning of July and Murdock could tell by the tone of Ray's letter that their prospects of a fair trial didn't look good.

His thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt arrival of his platoon leader. A distress call had been radio'd in that an infantry company were surrounded by three regiments of the NVA. Being the nearest unit to their location, they had been asked to respond to the call. The troops were in urgent need of fresh ammo and food and there were wounded that needed to be medivac'd out.

Within half an hour Murdock and three other helicopters were airborne and circling over the spot at high altitude. The trapped Company were sitting on a rise and the constant artillery and air strikes had blown all the surrounding trees away, obliterating all means of cover. Murdock could see that the men were dug into a ring of foxholes.

It seemed to be eerily quiet with no sign of Charlie in the vicinity. No-one had moved from the foxholes, as if the men on the ground were afraid that some heavy shit would go down.

There was only room for one helicopter to land on the rise, so the pilots would have to go in one at a time, whilst the others circled the LZ. Finally realising they were the good guys, there was a sudden flurry of activity on the ground, as several men jumped up out of their holes and started to bring out the wounded to be extracted first.

The lead ship had successfully made its extraction and was making a rapid ascent from the LZ. Still no gunfire! It all seemed surreal. But then, just as Murdock was about to make his descent, the deafening roar of enemy automatic weapons thundered through the air, making his bird vibrate with the sheer force of the blast.

The Door Gunner and Chief Crew both opened up with their machine guns. Murdock looked down to where their tracers were going and saw two lights blinking at the edge of a tree line. The lights of the returning enemy fire grew bigger and changed colours as they drew nearer. They were pastel lime green and then changed to pastel orange. As the lights danced around the aircraft, they were now as big as golf balls.

Awareness triggered in as Murdock realised they were being fired at by 50 calibre machine guns! This wasn't good, as Murdock knew a 50 calibre round could cause serious damage. He had to get out of the way fast.

"Strap yourselves in, ladies," he yelled manically over the intercom. "You're about to lose your breakfast!"

Without further delay, he pressed in full right pedal to counter the loss of torque, bottomed the collective and turned the helicopter on its side to spill all the air underneath. This violent manoeuver caused the bird to drop like a rock from the sky, well out of range from the gun fire. He gained control of the Huey again just in time to hover straight down into the tight LZ.

In the meantime, the other two helicopters and the infantrymen on the ground, were giving Murdock the cover he needed for his crew to unload the supplies and extract more wounded and dead bodies.

Murdock began his take-off, gathering speed as he made his hasty ascent. And that was when he felt an invisible hammer slamming him to the back of his seat as a round of ammo entered his right leg and right arm. He looked down and noticed that his right hand had been knocked of the cyclic. He could feel nothing at all in his arm or leg.

The co-pilot, who had his head tucked down, busy monitoring instrument readings, had no idea that Murdock had been hit. The aircraft was now climbing straight up at a dangerous altitude. When he did bob his head up again, he saw Murdock was frantically lip-reading to him over the din of the artillery blasts. Finally he got the picture when he saw all the blood flying round the cockpit!

Acting out of pure terror, the co-pilot grabbed the controls and began to take evasive action. In the meantime, Murdock was slowly fading out of consciousness. Shock was beginning to take a grip. For some reason his last thoughts were that of the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz - "I'm melting! I'm melting …!"

[_Note: soz, these chapters went on longer than I originally planned. I hope the history stuff hasn't bogged down the story too much. Hoping to wrap it up in the next two chapters._]


	8. Chapter 8: Escape from Fort Bragg

**Chapter 8: Escape from Fort Bragg**

[_Author's note: Despite the narrative about the team being sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit, there seems to be some discrepancy in the TV show as to when exactly the team escaped from Fort Bragg. __In the episode "A nice place to visit", BA mentions that Ray Brenner stood by them DURING the trial. __However, in the very first episode "Mexican Slayride", a reporter mentions that they escaped BEFORE the trial. __This would make more sense to me as I don't think you can be tried for the same crime twice (as was the case in the 1986 trial), so I have used this as canon. __It also occurs to me that 18 months imprisonment before the trial seems highly unlikely, but hey ho – I guess in the world of Fanfic you can get away with almost anything - hopefully!_]

[_June 1972 – Fort Bragg, NC_]

The A-Team had now been imprisoned for 18 months in the military prison at Fort Bragg. They were in separate cells and apart from recreation and meal times, they had very little contact with each other.

The officer in charge, Colonel Lynch, had taken an instant dislike to the team. He seemed to enjoy making their lives a misery and had already made up his mind that they were guilty of the crimes they were accused of.

With their trial date fast approaching, Hannibal was decidedly nervous. They had been taken to the Law Enforcement Centre to meet their lawyer for the first time and he wasn't exactly bowling them over with enthusiasm or confidence that he could get them off the hook.

In fact, he was spending most of their meeting trying to convince the team that 15 to 20 years at Leavenworth was the best they could hope for.

Hannibal was in mid-rant, telling the lawyer exactly where he could stick his 20 years' sentence, when suddenly the lawyer, who had been rummaging in his briefcase, pulled out a small revolver.

Hannibal immediately stopped his rant, glancing uneasily towards the door. Two armed guards would be just outside and for a moment he considered hitting the panic button, thinking his team might be in danger. BA and Face also looked on in bewilderment, wondering exactly what the man's intentions were.

"Who are you?" demanded Hannibal, his eyes narrowing in a cautious manner.

"Sargent Pattison, Sir," he replied. "United States Army. Sorry about the foreplay, but I had to make it look real to keep the guards off my scent. My CO, Colonel Sherman, asked me to send you his regards."

Hannibal's face lit up like a Christmas tree, his eyes glistening with renewed hope.

"Jack Sherman?" he questioned further.

Pattison nodded in acknowledgement.

"Friend of yours, Colonel?" asked Face.

"You bet!" exclaimed Hannibal. "I met Jacko during the Korean War. We've been through hell and back together on more than one occasion!"

"He heard you were in trouble from another friend of yours – Ray Brenner," continued Pattison, delving deeper into his briefcase again and pulling out a set of lock picks. "I guess you could call me your escape committee!"

"Nice!" grinned Hannibal. "Fake bottom, right?"

"Right!" grinned back Pattison. "Colonel Sherman would have made contact with you sooner to let you know he was aware of your situation, but you never replied to any of his or Mr Brenner's communications."

"We didn't get no mail from Ray," barked back BA.

"Lynch!" fumed Hannibal in anger. "Looks like he's been holding back on us."

Sargent Pattison looked warily at the door, knowing the guards would be just outside and could check on their status at any given second. He immediately set to work unlocking the team's handcuffs.

"Colonel Sherman said he could get me in," he said in a quiet voice to Hannibal, "But I'm afraid it's up to you to get us out. How do you wanna play it, Sir?"

"How tight is security?" asked Hannibal.

"Pretty tight," replied Pattison. "Two armed guards outside this door, with another two at the entrance to the building. My jeep is parked just outside in Armstead Street. The front section to the fort will be heavily guarded, so our best bet will be to head straight down Armstead Street and then right on to Randolph Street. We'll probably have to jump the MPs at the checkpoint to get on to Bragg Boulevard and then head out on route 24."

"Hannibal, how exactly _are_ we gonna get past the guards and out of the building?" asked Face, with his usual sarcastic cynicism.

"Yeah!" growled BA. "We're not gonna get very far with one small revolver between us!"

"Hmm, a little bit more firepower would certainly help," agreed Hannibal, thoughtfully.

He looked at BA, a dangerous smirk spreading across his face.

"BA," he said. "I need you to cause a disturbance to get the guards in here double-quick. Perhaps a little disagreement with, erm, the lawyer?"

"No problem, Colonel!" sneered back BA.

Pattison wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but he went along with the plan once Hannibal assured him that BA wouldn't physically hurt him!

So a heated discussion ensured between the two Sargents. BA, who was standing with his back to the door, was facing Pattison. He was shouting angrily, whilst keeping his wrists together in front of him, in a pretend cuffed position. Pattison yelled for the guards, who were in the room in a matter of seconds once they heard the ruckus.

They didn't even bother to look first as they coming barging in through the doors. BA immediately stepped to the side and Sargent Pattison aimed the pistol at both of them, stopping them in their tracks.

Before they had a chance to realise what was going on, Hannibal had one guard round the neck from behind. The guard dropped his weapon instinctively as he put his hands on Hannibal's arms to try and relieve the pressure from around his windpipe. Pattison quickly picked the rifle up. Hannibal held his grasp on the guard just long enough for him to lose consciousness, before letting him go. He guided him towards the chair and left him slumped over the table. He quickly unfastened the bullet belt from around the guard's waist.

Face, in the meantime, had kicked the gun out of the other guard's hand, whilst BA knocked him out with one swift blow to his jaw. He fell to the floor like a domino. Face disarmed him in a similar fashion, grabbing a knife, keys, wallet and a few other useful items from the guard's person. Pattison threw BA the other rifle whilst Hannibal took the revolver from Pattison.

"Face, put on Pattison's jacket!" he said urgently. "BA, get the guards' shirts off and put one of them on. Quickly!"

His men didn't question the Colonel's orders as they made the quick transition. They knew he wanted them to wear them to cover up their striped, prison shirts. BA took the shirt off the largest guard, but it was obvious it wasn't going to button up over his extremely large bulk! He threw the other one to Hannibal, who hurriedly discarded his striped shirt and pulled it on over his vest.

"Let's move!" ordered Hannibal after a few seconds, satisfied that it would at least give them some sort of camouflage. "Sargent Pattison, you go first. Once you're outside the building distract the guards so we can set up an ambush. Try and be discreet – we don't want to attract any unwanted attention!"

They crept stealthily out into the corridor. Face grabbed a set of discarded handcuffs from the table and then closed and locked the door behind him. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the Center. Pattison led them down the long corridor towards the entrance of the building. The others followed at a safe distance, ready to fight their corner, if need be.

Pattison reached the door and waited for the others to assemble behind him. Hannibal gave him back the revolver and indicted to BA to pass him his gun.

"Try and get them to stay as close to the entrance as possible," whispered Hannibal as he and the others pressed themselves up against the wall behind the door.

Pattison nodded as he put the revolver in his briefcase, at the same time pulling out some unimportant papers. He opened the door and the two guards immediately turned towards him as he went through. They relaxed when they saw it was only the "lawyer".

Pattison nodded at them as he passed by, leaving the door slightly ajar. He pretended to be pre-occupied by the papers in his hands before "accidently on purpose" dropping them on the floor.

"Damn!" he cursed, as he bent down to pick them up, making sure he was facing the entrance to the door.

"Let me help you there, Sir," said one of the guards, stooping down to help pick up the papers. The other guard went to shut the door, but he got one hell of a surprise when he suddenly felt the barrel of the M-16 pressed up against his chest.

"Make a sound and it will be the last thing you ever do!" threatened Hannibal, who had appeared in front of him from behind the door. He took one step back and gestured to the guard to step into the building.

Face immediately disarmed the guard and BA grabbed him by the shirt and bundled him into the nearest interview room.

At the same time, Pattison had pulled out the revolver and aimed it directly at the stooping guard. He could see the whites of his eyes widen in terror.

"Drop your weapon and step into the building," he ordered, keeping his voice low and controlled.

The guard put his M-16 down on the ground and Pattison casually picked it up. The guard stood up and backed slowly through the door entrance, where he received the same treatment from BA as he was bundled into the interview room with his partner.

"Cuff' em, Face and then let's get out of here!" ordered Hannibal.

"Do you mind?" Face asked them politely, as he cuffed the guards together by their opposite wrists. He then hurried out with Pattison and BA.

"Well gentlemen," mused Hannibal, good-heartedly, as he backed out of the room after the others. "It sure has been an education. Tell Lynch we'll send him a postcard!"

"Come on Hannibal!" growled BA from the corridor. "This ain't no time for the jibber-jabber!"

Hannibal closed the door and they all walked out casually to the jeep. Pattison jumped into the driver's seat, whilst Face and BA sat in the back. Hannibal climbed into the passenger seat.

Pattison drove off quickly down Armstead Street. They all knew they were on borrowed time as it wouldn't be too long before the guards would raise the alarm. They hoped they didn't look too out of place as they shifted around uncomfortably in their newly acquired clothes.

Pattison took a right on to Randolph Street and sped as fast as he could towards Bragg Boulevard. As he approached the checkpoint he could see the MPs waving at him to slow down so they could carry out their security check before he left the camp.

He continued pressing the accelerator hard to the floor as he sped up. Seeing that he wasn't going to slow down, the MPs immediately aimed their rifles at the jeep as a warning for him to stop.

The team then heard the sound of sirens blaring out behind them, as a convoy of patrol cars were approaching fast on their tail.

"We've got company, Colonel!" yelled Face, sounding surprising calm despite their dire situation.

"Aim for the tyres!" Hannibal hissed at Face and BA. "I'll take care of the checkpoint guards!"

Luckily the jeep was open-topped. Face and BA knelt on the seats, resting their guns on the back of the jeep. They pressed the soles of their feet against the back of the front seats for extra leverage. They let off a round of bullets each, aiming at the tyres, taking out as many of the patrol cars as they could. The first couple of vehicles careered dangerously across the road, causing a mini pile-up within seconds.

Hannibal, in the meantime, with his rifle resting on the front windscreen, was raining bullets at the feet of the guards.

"Hold on!" warned Pattison, as he made a beeline for the checkpoint. They guys grabbed on to the support frame and the guards dived out of the way as he crashed through the barrier.

Once they were through, Pattison sped down Bragg Boulevard. Face looked back, surveying the carnage with a wry smile. They would have a good couple of minutes' head start before the patrol cars managed to get through the mangled debris.

The guys flopped back down in their seats, grateful to have a bit of a breather. They assumed Pattison would head north on the main interstate road, when he suddenly swerved off to the right, taking them on to a less minor road.

"Hey!" queried Face. "Aren't you going to stay on Route 24?"

Pattison had slowed down, as the road was now much more uneven and bumpy.

"Too dangerous to stay on the main road," he replied. "It won't take them long to get an APB out on you guys and I don't wanna risk getting caught up in a roadblock."

Face had to admit he had a point.

"So where are we goin' man?" asked BA.

Pattison grinned back in reply.

"Patience!" he teased. "There's someone waiting for you who I think you'll be pleased to see!

Hannibal, Face and BA looked at each other with an intrigued look on their faces.

After about five minutes, Pattison pulled off the road and made his way about 50 yards down a dirt track. He pulled up behind a metallic black and grey van, with a thin red stripe running around it. A familiar figure stepped out from the driver's seat and made his way towards the jeep, a big grin etched on his tanned, weathered face.

"Ray!" shrieked the team in unison.


	9. Chapter 9: Freedom

**Chapter 9: Freedom**

For a fleeting moment it felt like they were back in 'Nam again. The excitement of the escape, seeing Ray and memories of their days together in the A-Team, made everyone feel very nostalgic.

However, once all the initial, enthusiastic greetings where finished with, Hannibal got back down to business.

"Okay guys, we can't hang around here all day," he said. "I'm guessing you've got some sort of plan up your sleeve, Ray?"

"There's a lodge I've procured about half an hour's drive from here," he replied. "It's right out in the woods and you wouldn't know it was there unless you were looking for it. Should give you time to get your thoughts together and decide what you wanna do next."

"Sounds like a plan," retorted Hannibal. "Sargent Pattison, are you coming with us?"

"No Sir, I've got to return to my unit," said the Sargent. "A patrol will be along shortly to pick me up. We'll get rid of this jeep and cover up any tracks to keep your position secure."

Hannibal and the team crowded round the Sargent to give him their thanks.

"We couldn't have done this without your help," said Face. "We'll be internally grateful to you and Colonel Sherman."

Hannibal and BA nodded vehemently in agreement as they each shook the young man's hand.

"Won't ever forget this, kid," said Hannibal. "Tell Jack I owe him – big time!"

Pattison gave the Colonel a formal salute.

"Good luck to you all," he said. "Now get your arse out of here – Sir!" he added quickly.

The guys made their way towards the van. BA took a moment to admire it. He noticed every detail - from the black and red turbine mag wheels, to the rooftop spoiler.

"Great ride, man!" he purred.

Ray threw him the keys.

"It's all yours, BA," he said. "Courtesy of Colonel Sherman. You'll find it's been equipped with some hi-tech gadgets, guns, grenades and other useful accessories."

BA beamed in delight. Hannibal chuckled in amusement. It was very rare to see the usually unemotional sergeant display any kind of sentiment.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the lodge. Ray was right – it was pretty much out in the wilderness and would surely be a safe haven for a few days. They were several miles outside the main town of Fayetteville, which hopefully the military would assume they would try to head for first.

Ray had stocked the larder and fridge with food and they were soon tucking into a hearty meal. As night-time fell a spooky atmosphere descended upon the wood. Hannibal hadn't seen or felt darkness like this since the intimidating blackness of the nights in the jungles of 'Nam. He could sense that the rest of the guys felt the same way. However, there was really only one thing on each of their minds and Face finally broke the silence by bringing up the subject.

"Ray, what happened to Murdock?" he asked.

Before Ray could reply, BA got up abruptly and muttered something about taking first watch. Hannibal nodded his consent. He knew it was hard for BA to come to terms with how damaged the pilot had become during the year before they were arrested.

"OK, BA," he replied. I'll relieve you in 3 hours."

Ray waited for BA to leave the room before he began to give them an up-date of what had happened to Murdock since their arrest, up to his discharge to the VA hospital.

"Can't believe he ended up working for the CIA again," said Face, puckering his handsome features up into a worried frown.

"Well, I don't suppose he had very many choices, Face," said Hannibal. "When was the last time you heard from him, Ray?"

"Haven't heard from him since before he was shot down," sighed Ray. "He was pretty upset about your up-coming trial and I don't think my last letter gave him much hope. I never got a chance to tell him that I made contact with Colonel Sherman shortly after I wrote him, so I guess he thinks you've all been sent to Leavenworth by now."

He stopped for a moment, a sadness creeping into his eyes. His voice began to shake as he continued his report.

"He's been in pretty bad shape, you know, after being shot down an' all. His Platoon Leader got my name and address from his possessions and kept me up-to-date with his progress. From what I can gather he just lost it completely. Had a breakdown, I guess. Didn't even know what his name was when he woke up after the accident. He kept thinking he was back at the Hilton being tortured by the Gooks."

Face looked horrified. It pulled him apart to think of Murdock on his own, with nothing but his ravaged mind playing tricks on him.

"Where is he now?" enquired Hannibal, his own face betraying the distress he felt for his loyal Captain.

"When he was well enough to travel, the CIA discharged him and he was sent to the Veterans Administration Clinic in Westwood, California," replied Ray. "I went to see him shortly after he arrived there, but he didn't know who I was. They told me he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, intermittent memory loss and was experiencing paranoid delusions. Spends most of his time curled up on his bed, crying like a baby and talking to his imaginary dog, Billy."

Face couldn't bear to hear any more. This didn't sound like the funny, vibrant, fun-loving man that he had grown to love over the years like his own brother. He left sick to his stomach. He angrily brushed away the involuntary tears that stung his eyes with the back of his hand.

There was another awkward pause as all three men seemed pre-occupied with their own private thoughts.

"So, what's the plan now, Hannibal?" asked Ray, after a few minutes of silence had elapsed.

Hannibal reached into his pocket and lit up a cigar. Food wasn't the only thing Ray had stocked the lodge up with!

"We should split up," he ventured carefully. "It would cut down the chances of us all being captured together."

Face didn't answer. He stood up and walked to the window, staring blindly out into the darkness of the night. His felt as though the threatening blackness was going to swallow him whole.

Hannibal could tell he was shaken up. It wasn't just the news about Murdock that had unnerved him, but also the thought of going it alone. Not that he had any doubt that Face would survive without the A-Team. He was an extremely intelligent and resourceful young man, who lived off his wits, scams and mind-blowing charisma.

"Face?" he enquired gently. "Any idea where you would go?"

The conman turned round to face Hannibal, supressing all signs of his former insecurities with one of his dazzling, confident smiles.

"Don't worry about me, Hannibal," he responded brightly. "I can look after myself!"

"That's not what I asked, Lieutenant," said Hannibal, sharply.

Face shrugged his shoulders in an indifferent manner.

"Doesn't matter where," he said in a detached voice. "Lynch can't be in three places at once. It makes good sense, Colonel."

Before Hannibal had a chance to reply, Face yawned loudly and made his excuses to leave the room. Hannibal reluctantly let him go. It had been a long, stressful day and their nerves were shot to pieces. In his current mood, there was no way Face was going to be rational about this. Best give him a chance to sleep on it and then bring up the matter again in the morning.

He puffed heavily on his cigar, as Face left the room. A giddy sensation was beginning to take over his senses as he inhaled the addictive nicotine into his blood. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a good quality cigar! He was aware that Ray was fidgeting uncomfortably beside him.

"You got something to say, Ray?" he asked, in a direct manner.

"I was just thinking that sometimes the practical solution isn't always the best course of action to take," he said, tentatively.

"You think we should stay together?" retorted Hannibal, a little taken back by Ray's reply.

"All the odds are stacked against you if you do," admitted Ray. "But then when did you ever do anything by the book, Hannibal? Seems to me like you're taking the easy way out."

Hannibal grinned back at Ray, his eyes twinkling with rekindled mischief and mayhem. Ray recognised that look and chuckled to himself. Hannibal was back on the jazz!

"I better go and speak to Face," said Hannibal. "Don't want that young whipper-snapper running out on us in the middle of the night!"

As he got up to leave the room he stopped and laid a hand on Ray's shoulder.

"Thanks Ray," he said, in a grateful voice. "I'd sorta forgotten how much I'd missed having you around!"

"Ditto!" replied Ray. There had always been an unconditional respect between himself and Hannibal. Rank-wise, Face had been the next in command, but Hannibal knew he could always rely on the older man for advice and support.

Hannibal left the room and made his way to the bedroom that Face and BA were sharing. He knocked on the door and waited for a reply before he walked in.

Face was already packing a few things into a bag. Of course all their possession had been left at Fort Bragg, but Ray had managed to procure a set of clothes and a few other personal items for the team – also courtesy of Colonel Sherman.

"You going somewhere, kid?" asked Hannibal.

"No point in hanging around," replied Face, flatly.

"Which direction you heading?" continued Hannibal.

"What do you care!" rebuffed Face. "You've already made the decision to split us up!"

"You think it's the wrong decision?" questioned Hannibal, wondering what Face's reasons were for not wanting to split up.

Face flung down his bag in exasperation and sat on the edge of the bed. The truth was this had nothing to do with what was right or wrong. It was about him losing the only family he had ever had in his whole miserable existence. But he couldn't tell Hannibal that. He couldn't risk him and BA getting caught just because he didn't want them to walk out on him. And then there was the _other_ thing – the thing that he couldn't even bring himself to admit to.

"It's the right decision, Colonel," he said finally. "The advantages of evading capture will be much less than if we stay together."

The tactical, thought-out answer didn't fool Hannibal.

"Then again, there's always something to be said for safety in numbers," reflected Hannibal, hoping his remark would coax Face into opening up to him.

Face didn't reply, but there was so much confusion and uncertainty burning in his eyes, that Hannibal wasn't prepared to leave it there. He sat down next to him on the bed.

"What's worrying you, Face?" he pressed gently.

"I'm not sure I can control it, Hannibal," blurted out Face, finally relenting to his inner turmoil. "You know - the killing instinct - the need to do anything it takes to survive - knowing when to stay out of trouble. I'm not sure I can do it without you."

"You'll control it, kid," reassured Hannibal.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Face in a low voice, the tears now flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Because I'm gonna be right there alongside you to make sure you do," replied Hannibal, putting a fatherly arm around Face.

The look of pure relief on his Lieutenant's face convinced Hannibal once and for all that he had made the right decision. Ray was right. They were a family now. He had an obligation to keep his boys alive and safe. And he was going to make damned sure that he saw this thing through to the bitter end.

The younger man buried his head in Hannibal's shoulder, his body shaking with emotion and exhaustion. He couldn't quite believe that Hannibal would stick by him. It made him feel wanted and valued and gave him the strength to carry on.

He finally drew away from Hannibal's hold. Hannibal stood up and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Glad we've got that sorted out," he said, simply. "I'd better go and give BA the good news."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The team and Ray stayed in the lodge for a few more days until all the fuss about their escape had died down. BA was also relieved to hear that they were going to stay together. He could have gone back to Chicago to be near his mama, but that would have been the first place they military would have looked for him and he didn't want to put her in danger. He would never admit it, but he was quite happy to stay part of his dysfunctional family.

There was really only one place they wanted to go and that was Los Angeles. They wanted to be near Murdock, so that when the time was right, they could let him know that they had come back for him.

So after dropping Ray off at the airport, the team started their journey into their new found freedom. The Los Angeles Underground was the perfect place to hide in and after a few months, they began to settle down as fugitives on the run. They didn't always stay together, but when they were apart they kept in constant contact with each other.

Face scammed his way from one project to another and managed to make a fairly substantial income to support himself. His address changed constantly, depending on whatever luxury pad he had managed to scam.

BA found himself a job as a mechanical and rented a small apartment in a Downtown suburb, which suited him fine. Nobody cared enough about him to ask any awkward questions.

Hannibal, always the survivor, managed to get himself a job on one of the acting lots as a handyman. However, it wasn't long before his versatile skills earned him promotion as a stunt actor/monster double. He usually lived in one of the caravans on the lot, but every now and then he would stay with Face if he was in the vicinity.

And all the time they kept a vigilant eye on Murdock's progress. They knew he would be under constant surveillance from the military for a while, so they patiently bided their time until the coast was clear and the heat was off them. They weren't about to leave the pilot languishing in no man's land.

[_Note: Hoping to post last chapter soon. __Please R&amp;R if you have the time. Would be interested to hear what you think so far._]


	10. Chapter 10: Contact

**Chapter 10 – Contact**

[_Timeline: November 1972 - California_]

Face pulled up behind BA's van in his flashy red and white corvette. He jumped out and gave it a loving pat before making his way over to the van. He pulled the door open and climbed into the back.

"Nice, kid!" mused Hannibal, eyebrows raised towards the car.

Face beamed proudly back. The car had been one of the first things he had bought for himself. It was the one thing that truly belonged only to him and that he didn't have to share with anybody else. It was his pride and joy.

"Thanks," he replied. He gave BA a brief nod of his head which BA acknowledged with his usual snarl.

They were parked just opposite the VA hospital. It had been five months since they had broken out from Fort Bragg and the media frenzy about their escape was now old news. There had been no sign of military activity around the hospital for the past few weeks, so Hannibal thought the time had come to contact the pilot.

Face was to make the initial contact. Hannibal passed him a small package. As Face reached out to take it, Hannibal held on to it briefly.

"Lieutenant," he said in a gentle, but warning voice. "Don't get your hopes up too much for a happy reunion."

Face sighed as he took the package. He knew Hannibal was right, but it didn't dampen his optimism that the visit would be a success.

As he walked into the building and over to the reception area, he could feel his nerves tingling with hope and anticipation. The young, pretty nurse looked up at him as he approached the desk, an engaging smile immediately plastered on her face as she appraised the handsome young man before her.

"Can I help you, Sir," she asked, in a slightly suggestive manner.

Now usually Face would only be too happy to indulge in a bit of playful flirting. But all he could think about was his imminent meeting with Murdock, so he kept his answer polite but to the point.

"My name is Tommy Chapman," he said. "I'm here to visit Mr Murdock."

The nurse glanced down at the appointment book.

"Oh, yes, Mr Chapman," she verified. "So your Captain Murdock's cousin? I'm sure he'll be very pleased to see you. He doesn't get many visitors."

She clicked her fingers as an orderly passed by.

"Take Mr Chapman to room 104," she said. The orderly nodded, turning to Face and gesturing towards the corridor.

"This way, please," he said.

The orderly shuffled off down the corridor. Face waved his thanks to the nurse and followed behind him. The main corridor led to another corridor which beared off to the right. About half way down the orderly stopped outside room 104. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

"If you need any help, I'll just be down the corridor a-ways," he drawled.

Face hesitated for a second, his hand hovering over the door handle.

"Is he ….. dangerous?" he asked, a hint of nervousness edging its way into his voice.

"Naw!" grinned back the orderly. "Just a bit crazy sometimes but he's harmless enough!"

Face took a deep breath as he knocked gently on the door.


	11. Chapter 11: All for one and one for all

**Chapter 11: All for one and one for all!**

Murdock was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He may have been suffering from intermittent memory loss, but he was damned sure he didn't have a cousin called Tommy! Mind you, there was so much that he had forgotten, that he couldn't be _exactly_ sure.

He sighed as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He picked up one of his aviation magazines, and flicked the pages over in an uninterested fashion. Some guy called Ray Brenner had paid him a visit some months back and had left them for him to read. Murdock couldn't remember who he was either, but guessed there must have been some connection between them, if he had known Murdock was interested in aeroplanes.

Murdock had always wanted to fly – ever since he had been a little boy. Despite all he had been through, it was the one memory that he had never forgotten. But even that dream had been shattered.

Too much wreckage lay between where he was now and that little boy who dreamt about soaring through the clouds. Those dreams were now replaced with flashbacks from being shot at during harrowing flights over Vietnam. Memories of the dead and horribly mangled victims that he had medivac'd out from hot landing zones, often brought him out in a cold sweat.

If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the sounds of the slow pulsating rhythm of the .50 caliber machine guns firing around his aircraft, filling him with an overpowering feeling of nausea and dread.

Those first few weeks in hospital after his last flight, had taken a lingering effect on him. Night-time was when his dreams would haunt him the most. He would be disturbed by the crescendo of deafening mortar rockets accompanied by the chorus of rattling machine gun fire. He would wake up, frightened and confused, convinced that he had been taken by the VC.

As his defence mechanism kicked in, he became panic-stricken and violent, lashing out at his "_enemies_" and swearing at them in Vietnamese. He had slid into a deep state of depression and had become obsessed with survival. Even now, he didn't feel comfortable sleeping in a bed unless he had his back to the wall and had a clear view of everything in the room.

Of course, the little purple pills had eventually helped to calm him down. But the black, torturous void of emotion still kept him on the brink of insanity. He found it difficult to let anyone get too close and had little interest on what was going on around him.

A soft knock on the door made him jump, but he didn't respond. When Face didn't get an answer he gingerly opened the door and entered the room. It was pretty sparse inside. Apart from the bed, there was just a wardrobe and a desk and chair. The walls were bare and brilliant white in colour – almost blinding Face as he walked into the dimly lit room.

Murdock looked up with mild curiosity. Face stepped closer towards him and saw that he was wearing a pair of beige trousers with a checked shirt and a striking brown leather jacket with a tiger on the back. Thankfully, he looked relatively calm and relaxed, although the dark circles round his brown vacant eyes told another story.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you," said Face gently.

Murdock shrugged non-committedly and hobbled over to sit down on the chair. His leg injury still hadn't completely healed. He looked up at Face, squinting suspiciously at him.

"You ain't really my cousin, are you?" he asked.

Face ran a hand tentatively through his blonde hair. For a split second the pilot flinched inwardly, as the movement seemed to spark off some sort of recognition in his head.

"No," admitted Face. "My name is Templeton Peck. I served with you during the war in Vietnam."

He stopped and waiting for a response. Murdock didn't say anything, but he was listening intently to what Face was saying.

"We were part of a Special Forces group called the A-Team," continued Face. "You were our pilot. Do you remember?"

"The A-Team?" repeated Murdock slowly. "In …. Nha Trang?"

"That's right," encouraged Face.

The expression on Murdock's face suddenly darkened as his eyes became clouded with confusion and uncertainty. He pulled himself up from the chair, wincing slightly as the unexpected movement made his leg throb.

"No!" he exclaimed angrily. "You're lying! The A-Team were arrested and sent to prison!"

Face frowned, backing off slightly. It was obvious that some recollection of Murdock's past was beginning to trigger buried memories in his head.

"Haven't you heard?" said Face, in almost a hushed whisper.

"Heard what? snapped back Murdock. "The birds singing? The dogs barking? The children crying? The voices screaming?"

Face looked back at him sadly. There was still an element of madness in Murdock's voice. The trauma he had witnessed was still very much evident. But there was also something else. He was still struggling to deal with his feelings and emotions but there was a certain amount of control about him.

"The A-Team escaped, Murdock," he said earnestly. "That's why I'm here. To let you know that we haven't forgotten about you."

A glint of hope flashed across Murdock's face. There was something familiar about the good-looking young man that made him feel at ease with himself. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he could trust him.

Face suddenly remembered about the package. He held it out to Murdock, who took it with an unrestrained air of excitement. He ripped it open with a child-like enthusiasm which made Face chuckle.

Once the paper had been discarded and thrown on the floor, Murdock was left holding a small box. He opened it up and found inside a dark blue baseball cap and a folded piece of paper.

A big goofy grin spread across the pilot's face as he recognised the cap from his 'Nam days.

"I thought I'd lost this," he said, as he immediately put it on over his dark brown, slightly thinning hair.

"Ray had it," said Face. "It was sent to him with some of your possessions when you left Vietnam. He helped us to escape from Fort Bragg and passed it on to us."

Murdock nodded, as if he now understood who Ray was and what Face was implying. His attention turned to the piece of paper. He opened it up and read it.

_Oh!__I have slipped the surly bonds of earth  
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.  
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth  
of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things  
you have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung.  
High in the sunlit silence.__Hov'ring there._

_I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung  
my eager craft through footless halls of air.  
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,  
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace,  
where never lark, or even eagle flew.  
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod,  
the high untresspassed sanctity of space.  
Put out my hand and touched the face of God._

Murdock's eyes filled with tears. But they were tears of joy and happiness, as if he had suddenly found a piece of him that he thought had died.

Face looked at him with some concern.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked anxiously.

Murdock thought about the question for a few seconds before replying.

"You know something," he finally said. "I think I will."

Face flashed him one of his genuine, heart-stopping smiles.

"I'd better go," he said reluctantly. "But I'll be back soon to check on you. Okay?"

Murdock grinned enthusiastically back at him, suddenly feeling a release from something that had laden him down over the months.

"Hey Faceman," he quipped. "Tell Hannibal thanks for not leaving me behind."

Face nodded an acknowledgement as he left the room. He felt like he was walking on sunshine as he walked back to the others. He had got his buddy back again and he was going to make sure he never lost him again.

All of a sudden, the future was looking good.

**Fini**

[_Note: The poem was called "High Flight" and was written by Gillespie Magee, who served in World War II as a pilot._]

[_Thanks for taking the time to read.__Please, please, please, leave me a review if you think the story worthy!_]


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